with the truth about being a shape-shifter. Heck, it would be easier just to erase his memory of Tumseneha’s attack. It wouldn’t be the first human memory she’d erased.
She reached over and touched his beefy shoulder. Power flowed down her arm and into him. She watched as the look in his eyes turned blank and she spoke in a low hypnotizing tone, “Listen to me, Brower. It was a pack of pit bulls that attacked the station. Strays roam the city all the time. Now what was it?”
“Pit bulls,” he answered in a vacant, parroted tone.
Fala dropped her arm and knew she’d have to wipe away the memories of the SWAT team guys and anyone else still alive. Mortals tended to think along concrete references, a small little world of their own making. If they only knew what powers awaited their discovery in the metaphysical world, it would knock them on their asses. Better they remain in the dark. Brower would still have nightmares about it, like Joe. Nothing she could do about that. But at least they could wake up and realize they were only bad dreams. And Freud thought the libido controlled humans’ dreams. A lot he knew.
Joe moaned, finally stirring.
Fala heard frantic voices coming from behind the door. She envisioned the faces of the rescue squad workers and a battalion of cops as they found Processing.
“Look, take care of Joe.” She turned and ran down the stairs.
“Where are you going? Don’t leave me here alone.” He sounded like a child who’d just had his nightlight turned off.
Fala almost smiled. “I’ll be back.”
She ran down the stairs, wondering at her last statement. If Tumseneha was lying in wait for her, she might not come back. But she couldn’t risk anyone else getting hurt because of her. What had happened to the SWAT team? She couldn’t hear the gunfire outside.
Her cell phone rang. She continued down the stairs and pulled it from her pocket. Urgent flashed on the caller ID. Must be Winter. Great. The last person she wanted to talk to. More than likely he called to grill her on what had happened at the station. Why did she sense he knew more about her than he had let on? And why had her insides somersaulted around him? Men didn’t do that to her—none had made her body tingle like he had. Definitely someone to keep at arm’s length. She caught sight of a text message that flashed, Answer your phone. Urgent.
She slapped the phone closed and slid it into her pocket as she reached the exit door.
She stepped outside and grew aware of the stark emptiness of the alley, the tight air breathing down her neck. The sky was changing, black melting into purple, hints of morning sun burning away the night. The row buildings on all sides blocked her view of the moon, yet she felt the pull of it still there, grasping at its last few moments of power, losing the eternal war with the sun.
She glanced past the Dumpsters, toward a security light still humming at the back of Burney’s. Many of her coworkers’ birthday parties had been thrown at the bar. Fala had lost count of the rounds of beer she and Joe had bought each other there. Its dim swatch of light hardly pierced the alley’s darkness, but it afforded enough glow to scan the immediate shadows as she advanced slowly down the alley.
The trail Tumseneha had left stirred every nerve and flashed neon warnings to be careful. Was it a former trail, or a more recent one? Was Tumseneha lurking, waiting? She didn’t dare believe he’d given up so easily. She slowed her stride, eyes darting at every shadow.
Suddenly a hand snaked out from beside a Dumpster and clamped over her mouth, another around her waist. Before she could react, her back hit a solid chest. The flash of familiar silver eyes burned in her retinas.
Chapter 4
Stephen heard her muffled protest die behind his palm. The sensation of her struggling against him, overpowering her, bending her to his will, sent a knee-numbing rush through him for one second. Then it changed into something agonizingly awesome as her white magic collided with his own, warred with his essence. He hadn’t known full physical contact with the Guardian would be this intense. Was it the spell he was under that caused this reaction? The direct psychic connection? Or the magic protecting her? He had never experienced anything like this with a female, a feeling of spiraling out of control and bursting at any moment.
He wanted to push her away, but the delicious smell of spent magic still crackled along her skin and held him. Her thick braid brushed his cheek. He felt her gun and holster poking his side, and something much worse: her shapely ass twisting against his growing erection.
“Shhh, be still and I’ll let you go,” he said, knowing he couldn’t let her go even if he wanted to.
Her stiff back bent slightly and she quieted in his arms. He felt her surrender to the same sensations he was experiencing. She bent her neck toward his lips as she said, “You’ve got two seconds to let me go, Ice Storm, or you’re gonna need a new set of family jewels.”
He pressed his mouth close to her earlobe and fought the urge to taste the soft flesh near his lips. He felt her body shaking in his arms as he said, “You’ll thank me very soon.”
“Not on your—” A thump at the end of the alley cut off her sentence and commanded their attention.
The lycanthrope had leaped down from Burney’s roof, crimson eyes ablaze, fangs bared.
“Stay behind me.” Stephen stepped in front of her.
“Get out of my way.” She grabbed his shoulders and yanked.
When it came to physical strength she didn’t have a prayer.
He easily shoved her behind him, then grabbed the Dumpster and hurled it at the werewolf.
Two tons of metal and trash collided with the creature.
The lycanthrope and the Dumpster hit the opposite building with a loud crash.
Stephen reached for the Dumpster again, pulled it back and rammed it into the stunned creature.
The werewolf slammed against the bricks again.
An eerie male groan came from the creature’s throat, then it shook its head as if to clear it.
Werewolf and Stephen locked gazes. And it held too long. A cocky smile showed the werewolf’s yellowed fangs, then the creature threw back his head and howled, a spine-chilling cry that sounded more like Tumseneha’s devilish laugh. His form suddenly vaporized into a black mist of what looked like bees, only to disappear on the wings of the wind.
“Some exit.” Stephen arched a brow at the sky.
“Why weren’t you afraid of that creature?” She turned to face him, arms akimbo, liquid blue eyes blazing.
“Why weren’t you?”
“I asked you first.”
“Let’s just say I’ve dealt with things like that creature before.” He shrewdly stayed away from the word werewolf or lycanthrope. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the Dumpster muck off his hands.
“Who do you really work for?” she asked, watching him tuck the handkerchief back in the pocket of his long coat.
“I told you, I represent Senator Kent’s welfare.”
“You’re not a normal fed.” She glared into his cold eyes. “So who the hell are you?”
“If you let me buy you breakfast, I’ll tell you.”
Taken aback by the sudden offer, she eyed him. “I got kind of a mess to clean up at the moment.” She gestured toward a news van that sped past the alley entrance and squealed as it stopped in front of the station.
“My office can help you take care of that if you—”
“No, thanks,” she blurted. “Just keep your people out of my way.”
He cocked a brow at the vehement pout on her lips, one damn sexy sulk. It made him